Ambrosia
by miikka-xx
Summary: Ryoma discovers he must feed himself for the weekend. He then discovers he sucks at cooking. RyomaSakuno. complete.


**miikka-xx:** so, i've never really got into PoT. it's okay. i guess cocky, adolescent boys who are prodigies at everything they do doesn't really get me excited. oh, but sakuno! she makes me giggle like a little girl every time. i love her. and for some reason, ryosaku screams sasuhina from naruto. screams, i tell you.

**Title:** Ambrosia  
**Rating:** K+  
**Summary:** Ryoma discovers he must feed himself for the weekend. He then discovers he sucks at cooking. RyomaSakuno. complete.  
**Disclaimer:** has tezuka raped fuji yet? no? damn, i guess i don't own.  
**Warning(s):** FLUFF. ENOUGH FOR CAVITIES. yeah, that's about it. OH. CHEESY. VERY CHEESY.

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_ambrosia_

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Ryoma really hated his father sometimes.

Seriously, any person knew that you couldn't just get up and leave, while your child was stuck home alone without any working knowledge of how to cook. Oh true, he had his mother, but she had magically disappeared with his father. God knew where his cousin always took off to for long periods of time.

So all Ryoma could do was stare at the stupid note scribbled on a post-it and stuck to his fridge.

_Leaving for the weekend to the hot springs with mom! Make sure you eat. -Daddy (insert smiley face and heart here)_

Stupidstupidstupidstupid. Ryoma cursed the gods for giving him such a stupid father. He peeked under the note and found his coach's phone number under it. Great, so while he was going to starve himself for two whole days, at least he could get some practice in.

Ryoma's stomach growled menacingly.

Or not.

See, the problem here was:

Ryoma was barely fourteen, thus, his narrow-mindedness had never expanded farther than basic hygiene and tennis. So, really, he couldn't cook worth crap. Nor did he have any money or salary to speak of. And really, he could leech off of Momo-senpai, but that would mean tearing his pride into itty-bitty shreds. _Not_ an option.

The logical solution was to try. Without fuss, Ryoma opened the refridgerator door and stared at the vegetables.

Okaaay. Now what?

He peered in and found bread. That was good. A sandwich. Even he could manage something so simple. Plucking out the bread, he looked around some more. Celery, green onions, tomatoes... wait, was that cheese? Oh, no, that was a stick of unwrapped butter. No meat. Well, whatever, he had butter and tomatoes.

Quickly, he smeared on the butter on the bread, awkwardly sliced the tomatoes, stuck them on and took a bite.

Ryoma then hurled it into the garbage can.

That was revolting. He dropped the sandwich in the trash and began to take his anger on the innocent post-it. He glared at it with the intention of making it melt. The result wasn't quite the same. It fell off, revealing his coach's phone number.

Ryoma considered his options. One, he could live off of water and raw veggies for the next two days, perhaps fainting halfway through from food poisoning. Or he could call and ask for that girl who made him bento occasionally.

Sa... Sa... Saku... Sakura? No, Saku_no_.

Right, her, Sakuno. He called her Ryuuzaki anyways.

Ryoma swiped the phone off the counter and dialed the number. There was no way in hell he was going to die in his kitchen. He had plans for the future, things to do, people to see!

"Hello?" the person on the other line answered, Ryoma blinked. What did he say now?

"I need to speak with Ryuuzaki Sakur-no. Sakuno." The person paused but didn't move from the receiver.

"R-Ryoma...?" they asked with something like disbelief. He gritted his teeth, any time now.

"Yeah?"

"It's Ryuuzaki," she said, without stutter or softness because she was still trying to swallow the fact that the boy she liked had her _number_ and was _calling_ her.

"I need yout to come over," he told her flatly. All the blood rushed to her cheeks.

"W-W-Whaaat?" she gasped.

"I c-c-can't..." Ryoma took a deep breath, "I c-can't cook." Well, that was mortifying. He just admitted to something he couldn't do.

"O-Oh." Sakuno blinked, "um, where do you live?"

He gave her directions and patiently waited at the dinner table for a knock on his door. This cooking business couldn't be too hard. True, at school you could learn but that was useless things like cakes and cookies and chocolate. He needed sustenance, damnit! Real food!

Eventually, a soft rapping on the door got him out of his reverie. He opened the door and felt the sheer awkwardness of the situation sink in. A girl was at his house. Nobody was at his house except him. This couldn't be giving the right impression.

"The kitchen is down there," he pointed, skipping any greetings. Sakuno nodded and gave her bike a last glance before walking inside.

"My b-bike..." she mumbled. Ryoma looked at her.

"Nobody will steal it," he said and walked to the kitchen. Sakuno followed obediently.

"I need meals for the weekend. I don't care what you make as long as it tastes good." Ryoma paused, maybe he should've rephrased that. He cared very much what she made because even if cheesecake tasted really good, he couldn't eat it for the two days. Fortunately, she seemed to get the point.

Sakuno wandered cautiously around the kitchen, peeking in shelves, opening cabinet doors and staring thoughtfully at his pantry. She looked in his fridge then stared into his freezer. Ryoma stared too. So _that's_ where the meat was.

Sakuno pulled away and glanced at him, who was standing beside her.

"Ano, I can make..." she went through a list of various meal choices and counted them off with her fingers before he had to touch her shoulder to make her shut up.

"Just, um, make those first things you said," Ryoma improvised, really not caring because from what he knew of her bento, she could cook pretty well. Sakuno blushed and nodded, moving away so his hand slipped off her and hung beside him. It looked quite dejected.

He followed her around, watching with intensity at the way her petite hands held the chopping knife and each vegetable was throughly sliced before tossed into a pan. Sakuno ignored his presence as she made stir-fry and soup, set up some rice in their rice-cooker and mixed water with powder to make instant-juice.

Ryoma gazed at the quickness and deftness she had, flitting from one appliance to another and brandishing his knives with one would call experience. Her hair was in a disarray, coming loose from her braids as she wiped the sweat off her brow. Three things were boiling on his stove and she was mixing something vigorously in a bowl. Ryoma suddenly realised something.

Sakuno was entirely in her element.

She wasn't ignoring him, she just chose not to see him and concentrate on the task at hand.

Smells were wafting through the air, making his stomach more vocal than usual. Japanese food, he smirked, finally. His mother was known for her fondness of Western food, easy and quick to make. Ryoma was getting sick of it. Maybe this parental reprieve was what he had needed.

Sakuno whirled on her heel and stared at him, startling Ryoma out of his thoughts.

"Ryoma-kun!" she announced, "go set the table!" He blinked. Say what? When was the last time he was told to do anything? In a daze, he pulled out a few bowls and utensils and placed the on the dining table. Well, Sakuno ordering him around. That was new.

Ryoma found himself smiling to himself. Oh gods, he liked it, didn't he? He liked seeing her stand up to him, didn't he? He forced his lips down to a scowl. No, he didn't like taking orders from girls who just marched into his house and defiled his kitchen. No way. Not at all-

"Are the plates set? I'm bringing the stir-fry!" she said. Ryoma sighed. Screw it. He liked it. Quite obediently, he put the plates and glasses out and waited for her. Sakuno looked quite imperious, despite strands of hair stuck to her cheeks, a concentrating frown on her lips and the huge smount of food she was carrying in her little, stick-like arms.

She set it down and brought the soup. After that, she plucked the two bowls and filled them with rice. Quickly, putting them down on the table, Ryoma watched as she tossed her oven mitts on and peeked into his oven. Biting her lip, she turned off the heat and let it cool in the appliance. Finally, she rummaged through his fridge, fished out the appropriate condiments and carried the jug with juice over.

"Dinner's served!" she said brightly, beaming, with red on her cheeks and face damp. Her braids were thinner, looser, because all the hair was sticking out haphazardly and the sheer pride of her work shone through her eyes.

Ryoma did something unexpected. No, he didn't kiss her. He merely tugged one of her braids gently and smiled.

"Thank you."

Sakuno reverted from Queen-of-the-Kitchen Sakuno to Ryoma's-Number-One-Fan-Sakuno. Her face went completely red but she managed to sit herself down before fainting. They ate quietly even if he did sneak sly glances at her through his food. She ate as quietly as she was, chewing silently with impeccable manners.

"Do you... like it?" she asked him quietly. Ryoma looked up and swallowed.

"Of course," he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Which it was in _his_ world. Her bentos were simply excellent, the reason why he always ate hers and not the loud one she was friends with.

She quickly served dessert after. Carrying a tray of brownies from the oven to the table. He sliced two pieces and put one on her plate, obtaining a thankful smile as she placed the tray to on top of the stove. His hormones, he concluded, was the reason why he wanted to smile back. So he crushed the impulse.

Sakuno cleaned the dishes after, while Ryoma packed the food in plastic containers to heat up after. It seemed enough to last through the weekend, he thought, but he would probably get sick of the same thing. Ah, no matter, he would just invite Sakuno over again. Maybe Sunday. Something clicked in his brain. Maybe he should ask.

Sakuno wiped her hands dry with a towel and got ready to leave when she was intercepted by him.

"A-Ah, yes, Ryoma-kun?" she asked warily, seeing his intent stare.

"Can you come back?" he said quickly, feeling quite embarassed all of a sudden. Sakuno looked taken aback. Bad sign, his mind screamed, baaaad sign.

"I didn't make enough?" she murmured, looking down at the floor in shame. She tried, really, but two days food was alot of work.

"No, I mean," Ryoma quickly corrected himself, "I mean, are you free, on Sunday?"

Sakuno's obliviousness set in. "Sunday? Sure, the food should be gone by then..." Ryoma almost growled in frustration at her.

"It's not about the food," he said, "I want to see you again. On Sunday. Are you free?" He punctuated each word carefully, to try to get it through her thick skull. Why were girls so _dense_, sometimes? Geez!

"O-Oh!" Sakuno went red, "_Oh_. U-Um, yes, I am!" Ryoma closed his eyes.

"Good."

Sakuno shuffled to the door and turned around to thank him when she caught sight of her reflection in the hallway mirror. Her hands fluttered nervously to her head, trying to flatten down the rebellious strands. Ryoma watched, amused. Sakuno was getting frustrated, he could tell, and she pulled irritably at her braids, before letting go with a defeated sigh.

"It looks fine," he told her quietly, tugging a braid. Sakuno looked at him mournfully.

"Really?" she asked. He nodded. Girls. So self-conscious. It's not like he cared what she looked like. As long as everyone else didn't. He scowled at some of the looks boys had glanced at her with. Stupid, hormone-driven males.

He opened the door for her and let the cool air wash over them. She smiled at him, blush tinting her cheeks prettily and turned to leave when her sleeve was caught by his impulsive hand. Ryoma blinked. Now what was he supposed to do? His hand had just magically disobeyed his brain and was holding her sleeve in a very awkward situation.

"Ryoma-kun?" she asked, confused. Ryoma wanted to hit his head against something.

"Uh, nothing," he mumbled quickly but his hand wouldn't let go of her damn sleeve. Stupid, hormone-driven hand! He scowled rather fiercely, making her squeak in fright. He looked up at her and saw she was rather surprised and wary. Like a mouse, he mused.

No, no, now was _not_ the time to be making similes or metaphors or other ridiculous literary comments on Sakuno's pink cheeks, soft hair and big, bright eyes and very pink lips. No, it was _not_.

"Do you have a boyfriend? Are you going on a date?" he asked suddenly, as his mind started yelling obscenities at him. Sakuno went quite red at the questions.

"There's a boy," she admitted, "but no, no boyfriend, no dates." Ryoma sighed in relief. Alright, that was a good sign. But there was a boy. And he didn't quite like that, so, of course, the logical solution would be-

His hand that was holding her sleeve let go and went around her waist while the other hand tugged her braid, bringing her close to him. Sakuno was trembling at the fact that she was pressed against him and her eyes darted around his face, trying to figure what he was trying to do.

Ryoma smirked and leaned down, his nose brushing her cheek. His eyelashes tickled her skin when finally his mouth landed on hers.

"Good," he mouthed out against her lips, feeling her melt instantly.

Very good.

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**a/n:** okay, i couldn't do it. i could not end it without a kiss. it's like, a rule in the PoT fandom. you cannot write ryosaku without a 'ryoma kisses her possessively' scene. you just can't. this couple is so messed up but so very cute. we all know ryoma's either gay or _very_ sexually repressed. mm, i liked it in a 'sappy, fluffy, waff' sort of way. drop a line to tell me what you think. :D

_editted nov 21, 2010. feel free to point out any remaining typos, grammar errors, etc. thank you._


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